Chapter 1: The Return
The early days of September brought a sense of desolation to Peacefield. The orphanage, silent and still, stood in stark contrast to the vibrant colors of autumn that began to bloom outside.
Maria Adams, the director, approached the door at the end of the third floor with hesitant resolve. “Lenore, your father is here,” she said softly.
Moments stretched into uncomfortable silence before the door creaked open. Behind it, the girl’s voice—thick with sleep—asked, “Where is he?”
Maria’s expression was a tangled mix of concern and reluctance. “Downstairs.”
Without another word, Lenore Smedley shoved her hands into the pockets of her oversized jacket and shuffled down the stairs in worn slippers.
Troy Smedley had been waiting for what felt like an eternity. He stood there, his patience fraying at the edges, until Lenore finally appeared. His tone was immediate and commanding. “Pack your things. We’re going back to Jinslenburg right now.”
Dressed in a sharply tailored business suit, Troy was in his forties, his eyes gleaming with the shrewdness of a seasoned businessman. Yet, there was a hardness to them, a thinly veiled contempt for the daughter who stood before him.
Lenore leaned casually against the railing, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. “Not today,” she said, a teasing lilt to her voice. Troy slammed his coffee cup onto the table, the force of the action echoing through the room and sending a group of curious children scattering in fright.
Troy snapped, “I traveled all this way, and you’re telling me not today?” He postured like a man who believed his presence was a grand event.
Lenore tilted her head, feigning seriousness. “I genuinely can’t.” There was a game at night she needed to attend. After a moment’s pause, she added, “Besides, I didn’t ask you to come pick me up.”
Her tone dripped with mockery, sparking Troy’s temper. “If it weren’t for your mother’s sake, I wouldn’t care if you dropped dead out there,” he shot back, his words sharp enough to slice through the air.
A low, dangerous laugh escaped Lenore’s lips. “My mom passed away long ago.”
Troy was momentarily thrown off balance. His fists clenched at his sides. In his heart, Lenore had once been a sweet, fragile girl, adored by everyone.
But the trauma of the explosion that had taken her mother when Lenore was only four had transformed her completely. The wolfish fierceness that radiated from her now was a far cry from the delicate porcelain doll she had once been.
To create a stable environment for his younger daughter, Troy had been forced to send Lenore to Peacefield—remote and poor. “Over a decade has passed, yet she remains defiant,” Troy thought bitterly. If it weren’t for the impending milestone of her eighteenth birthday… she must remain under my watchful eye until then.
Suppressing his disgust, he said coldly, “As long as I’m here, you’ll be leaving whether you like it or not.”
When Lenore had been left behind at Peacefield, Amanda, her grandmother, had been her only anchor. But Amanda’s death when Lenore was eight left her adrift once again.
Despite having a family and a father, Lenore spent her days in the orphanage, wrestling with the sting of abandonment. It was no wonder she hated her father. Maria, watching the father-daughter exchange, couldn’t help but feel a growing unease.
It wasn’t that Maria could intervene—she knew the conflict between Troy and Lenore was an unwieldy storm, brewing just beneath the surface. Maria often glanced at Lenore, ready to step in if things got out of hand.
Eventually, Lenore broke the tension, her rebellious spirit flaring as she locked eyes with her father. “You know why you want me back. Don’t pretend it’s for my mother. She’s gone.”
Troy knew the truth. Viola, his late wife, had left behind a considerable fortune locked up in a bank on Peace Avenue in Jinslenburg, accessible to Lenore only when she turned eighteen.
The exact amount was a mystery, but rumors whispered that it was substantial. Troy couldn’t fully sever ties with Lenore until he had his hands on that fortune.
Seeing she wouldn’t easily be swayed, he tightened his grip on his patience, bracing for the inevitable clash.
